


you can't keep our hearts from beating

by wordsbymeganmichael



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CS endgame, F/M, Failed Relationships, I don't know how to tag this, I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsbymeganmichael/pseuds/wordsbymeganmichael
Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are both unhappy in their current relationship. Will an unlikely friendship lead them all towards happiness?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	you can't keep our hearts from beating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainsjedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsjedi/gifts).



> This fic goes out to the dearest and loveliest Meredith, who deserves nothing but happiness and sleep and rest through this hectic holiday season. Title is a line from a Struts song and 100% relates to the story, I promise

“And then, when I was trying to get him into the back of the patrol car, he put up so much of a fight, but before we even pulled away from the curb, the wanker just passed out.” 

Emma laughs, perhaps a bit louder than she meant to, then brings her cup of coffee to her lips in hopes of hiding the blush that creeps to her cheeks. It had only been a few weeks since her first date with  _ Jones _ , as he eloquently introduced himself when they first met, a date that went well and has since led to regular coffee dates and lunches when their breaks line up, dinners when they both have the time for them, plus one really steamy night after too many drinks that neither of them have dared to mention yet. And lots of small, hidden smiles shared from their desks across the large, open room of the precinct. 

Because he’s a detective, just like she is. They rarely work cases together, only when one is big enough to require more than one set of partners; and when he’s not busy (or even sometimes when he  _ should  _ be busy with paperwork), he’s usually on one of the upper floors, working towards a promotion or talking to David. 

Her  _ brother _ . He is her brother’s best friend, and that makes this all a little more awkward than your regular workplace romance would already be — especially since they haven’t yet had the opportunity to tell David about their relationship. 

But she likes him, and it’s been a long time since she was with someone who made her smile, who bought her coffee, who walked her home after taking her out to dinner and expected nothing more than what she was willing to offer. 

Maybe that’s why she’s put up with the fact that they have been able to spend very little time together outside the precinct over the last two weeks, and that all he’s been able to talk about — all he’s been able to focus on since they announced the opening for a Sergeant — is work. 

“My brother tells me things are going well between him and your friend Elsa, right?” he asks, stabbing the last few pieces of his salad on his fork as he changes the subject. 

Emma tries her best to smile before draining the last of her coffee. While Elsa likes the other Jones brother, she's come home after the past few nights spent with him not sure that there's much of a future for them together, but that's not Emma's secret to tell. 

But when he asks, "We should go on a double date sometime soon, maybe this weekend?" it takes every ounce of energy she has not to cringe. She's sure that both Liam and Killian would love that, and she wouldn't mind it, either — if not for Elsa's feelings, and the fact that her own are dwindling, as well.

She nods, not really sure what to say, but before she manages to find a response, he's pulled his phone out of his pocket, Emma assumes to text his brother. What can she even say? Even her thoughts come to her as stutters, altogether useless in forming a response. 

And then it’s too late. He looks up from his phone and smiles at her once more before setting it down on the table. 

“There,” he says, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “I texted him. Now we just have to see when they’re are free.” She does her very best to return his smile again.

(When she gets a text from Elsa a few minutes later reading  _ “What the hell did you do?!?!?!?” _ , though, her smile is nowhere to be seen.)

All things considered, the double date doesn’t go terribly. Even though Emma came into it with the knowledge that both she and her best friend were both contemplating ending their relationships, they both still managed to have a nice time out with the Jones brothers. 

With each of them seated on their own side of the small square table, Emma found herself between Killian and Liam, with Elsa across from her — a position that allowed them to share glances when their dates weren’t paying attention. 

They both had a lot of glances to share. 

As the night goes on, though, she finds herself pleasantly surprised by just how much she is enjoying herself. She swipes her bread across the plate, sopping up some of the sauce left over from her chicken marsala, and finds herself smiling, not for the first time, at the man seated to her right, entranced by his startling blue eyes. It’s not until she feels the hard warmth of a hand on her left leg that she realizes she has leaned closer to the younger Jones brother after pushing her plate into the center of the table. 

"Do you want dessert, babe?" Liam asks her, squeezing her knee between his fingers. He doesn't seem to care that he still has pasta left on his plate, or that Elsa has focused more on him than on her dinner. Not that she blames her — Emma is guilty of doing the same, though for her, chicken marsala always takes top priority. She’s noticed how well Elsa and Liam are getting along, how much her friend is smiling. She always figured they would get along, though their schedules at the precinct and Elsa’s at the hospital never worked out. She’s thankful tonight worked out. It didn’t make her change her mind about her relationship with Liam, and she’s fairly sure Elsa hasn’t changed her’s, either. But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been fun. 

Emma smiles, ignoring the weight of Liam’s hand on her leg. “There’s always room for cheesecake,” she jokes, knowing the effect it will have on Liam, grinning as his nose scrunches up. 

Liam doesn’t like cheesecake, one of the most shocking things she learned about him. Because of that, she’s eaten cheesecake in front of him as often as she could, poking fun at him and the  _ insanity  _ of his dislike of her favorite dessert. But what is even more shocking to her in this moment isn’t the older Jones brother, but instead the wide smile spread across the younger’s face. 

“You like cheesecake, love?” he asks, as if the fact weren’t already obvious. 

Liam rolls his eyes, which gets her attention from the corner of her periphery. “Yeah, almost as much as you do, little brother, which is something I never thought was possible.” 

At this, Elsa laughs. “I thought the same of Emma for the longest time.” 

“Yeah,” Emma comments, taking the last piece of bread from the basket and dragging it through the little sauce still left on her plate. “Elsa can’t stand it, either. It really made sharing a fridge with her in college pretty easy, knowing she’d never eat my late-night cheesecake.” As she shoves the piece of bread in her mouth, she turns to smile at Elsa, but she’s not looking at her. Instead, she’s looking at Liam, who has leaned away from her but somehow left his hand on her knee. So instead, she smiles at Killian, who  _ is  _ already looking at her. 

“Guess that means we’re getting dessert then, huh?” he asks. 

_ No, _ she tells herself, savoring her last bite even as her smile grows,  _ Tonight may not have been a  _ complete  _ waste.  _

  
  


Two hours left. Two hours, and she can go home. Enjoy her Friday night. Actually have the weekend off. Spend some time with her best friend.

Her best friend that she has seen more of in the past two weeks than her own boyfriend. If she could even call him that. His promotion is coming, there’s no denying it anymore, but she’s pretty sure that doesn’t give him an excuse to avoid her. If he is already not returning her calls before the promotion, who's to say it won't get worse one he moves up a floor? Once he no longer can see her from his desk?

She is pulled from her own spiraling thoughts by her phone buzzing on the desk beside her. As much as she hopes it's Liam, finally answering her, she also knows that it's not. Glancing down at the screen, she confirms her thought by seeing instead Elsa's name:  _ l did it., _ quickly followed by another buzz:  _ l broke up with him. _

Emma taps a quick reply:  _ How'd it go? _

She watches the three little bubbles appear, then disappear. Appear again. Disappear again. And once more. And then:  _ Drinks later, right? I'll tell you all about it. _

Emma informs her that she's off at 6 — in just two short hours — and she'd like to take a shower after this morning’s training, so they agree on 7.

She's not sure if it's her desire to get the hell out of there or the fact that she now has concrete plans with Elsa, but her remaining time drags out slower than any other two hours that she can think of.

Especially once Liam comes off the elevator, smiles at her across the bull pen, and crosses the room to lean against her desk. 

"Do you have plans for tonight?" he asks, crossing his arms across his chest as if there were nothing wrong. As if he hadn't ignored a dozen texts and half as many calls the past week.

It takes everything in her not to explode right there in the middle of the precinct, but she fails to even plaster a fake smile across her face as she turns to him. "I texted you yesterday and told you was spending the weekend with Elsa and her sister."

Liam nods, running his fingers through his hair. She wonders if Killian texted him as quickly as Elsa had her — if he was ignoring his brother's messages the same way he had been ignoring hers.

Knowing how close he is to his brother, she highly doubts it. He has to know by now. 

She wonders if that’s why he decided to talk to her in the first place.

"Right, right," he mumbles, a sure sign that he had forgotten her weekend plans, if he ever read the message in the first place. "I was hoping to spend some time with you. I know I haven't been around much lately, so l was hoping to make up for some of that." As casually as he can, he does a quick sweep of the bullpen before turning his bright eyes back to her and winking.

The sentiment is so sweet that she  _ almost _ feels bad about  _ almost _ yelling at him earlier — though she's sure he would have both taken it and agreed with her. When she has no response, he just shrugs. "Guess I'll just see if Killian's busy."

"I can't imagine he will be," she mutters, not even fully meaning for the words to slip past her teeth.

He doesn't even ask for clarification; just, "I guess if you're with Elsa then he won't have anything else to do."

Emma nods, trying her best to avoid the double-entendre that his words threaten to bring to mind. For some reason, the thought of Killian "doing" anything —  _ anyone  _ — makes her incredibly uncomfortable. She pushes that thought into the back of her mind, where it had been living since their double date two weeks before. Because, as much as she had tried to ignore it, she had really liked spending time with Killian. Had liked talking to him, which is not something that is easy for her to find in a person. 

But it’s not like… 

Well, she’s still  _ dating  _ his  _ brother.  _

And, perhaps even more than that, her  _ best friend  _ just broke up with him. 

No. Nope. It’s not even a thought that she allows to take up space in her mind. Instead, she thinks about her nice weekend with Elsa and Anna, about not having to get up on Saturday morning, trying her hardest not to watch the seconds tick away on the clock above the elevator. 

  
  


It takes Elsa two and a half glasses of wine and half of a pizza before she even mentions Killian. 

“He was almost  _ too _ nice about it, you know?” she asks, lowering her slice of pizza back down onto the plate. It takes Emma a moment to realize what she is talking about, what with the lack of context, though she hates to admit to herself that the new topic of conversation has spent more time on her mind in the last week than she wanted him to. 

Anna doesn’t even try: “What are you talking about?” 

Elsa huffs, falling against the back of the couch so quickly that she almost spills her wine on her pajama pants. “ _ Killian _ , Anna. I’m talking about Killian.” 

Anna turns even more red than her usual composure, which Emma never used to believe was possible when they first met, and she nods. “Oh. Okay.” 

“But it was — it was almost as if he… as if he wanted it.” 

“Is there a problem with that?” 

Elsa whips her head towards Emma, taken aback by her question. “Yes! He’s not supposed to want to break up. He’s supposed to be heartbroken, supposed to want to try again, but he was—” She takes a deep breath before letting it out in another huff. “He was so  _ agreeable.”  _

“I still don’t really see the issue,” Anna says, shrugging. 

Emma can’t hold in the laugh that rises through her, but the icy daggers that Elsa shoots at her sister almost stop it. 

Almost.

Because she also doesn’t see the issue. If Killian doesn’t want to be with her anymore, either, then there shouldn’t be an issue to begin with. Mutually-agreed-upon breakups are always better than one-sided ones, in Emma’s opinion, as uncommon as they are, and she’s pretty sure there’s an episode of Seinfeld about it, too. She thought that everyone in the world agreed with that, but maybe she was wrong.

Killian would probably agree with her. He was agreeing with her pretty often when they all went out together. 

“ _ Guys, _ ” she whines, then presses her lips together in a thin line. “He just agreed with me about everything, about not being right for each other and needing to not try to force it anymore, and he didn’t even try to fight with me.” 

“Is that really what you wanted? For him to fight with you about it?” Emma asks, shoving the rest of her slice of pizza in her mouth.

Elsa shrugs, her eyes set on the box of pizza on the coffee table and not on either of them. 

“Maybe he already found somebody else, but didn’t know how to tell you, so when you wanted to break up with him, it was exactly what he wanted,” Anna says. 

Both Emma and Elsa whip their heads at her. She’s always been a talker, never really known when to stop the words from tumbling from her lips, and the few glasses of wine she’s had since she came to Elsa’s apartment haven’t helped much. 

Emma clamps her lips together, this time succeeding in keeping her laugh inside, though she still rolls her eyes. The feel of her heart pounding in her chest at the thought of Killian already finding someone else, however, isn’t something she has control over. Why would she care if Killian found someone else? It’s not like she— 

_ Nope _ , she tells herself for the second time that day.  _ Not even going there _ . 

Elsa scoffs. “Thanks for that, Anna. It really made me feel better.” 

The room goes silent, Anna realizing, for once, when to keep her mouth shut. 

But the silence gets to Emma very quickly, and the words that fall from  _ her  _ lips weren’t quite the ones that she wanted to divulge tonight: “Hopefully it goes as smoothly when I break up with Liam as it did with you and Killian.” 

Her empty pizza plate falls to the floor as her hand flies to cover her mouth. “That wasn’t—” she starts, but is cut off with Elsa’s laughter. 

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Elsa laughs, shaking her head. “We can all just wish that all of our break-ups go as nicely as mine did, right?” 

  
  


_ One _ dinner. She asked him for  _ one _ dinner, not having eaten at the same time as him since their double date almost a month ago. She’s reached the end of her patience. Her time has run out. And she asked for  _ one  _ dinner, thinking that a few hours on a Wednesday night wouldn’t be asking too much.

And then he went on an impromptu stakeout with David for a case that he’s not even on. A stakeout that she  _ knows  _ David certainly didn’t “need” his help with, as Liam texted her, because he had told her himself the night before that it was a doozy — they knew who they were looking for, knew what time he was coming, what he would be driving, but they simply needed to  _ confirm  _ all of these things this time around so they could arrest him at the same time the next week. 

So, yes, she’s annoyed.  _ Pissed _ , actually. Not only did he blow her off  _ on purpose _ , but he  _ lied  _ to her about why he was doing it. 

Damn, all she wanted to do was eat some pizza and break up with him, and he had to go and pull this on her. With a huff, she checks her watch for what seems like the hundredth time over the past ten minutes. He’s an hour late. There’s no reason for her to stay here, under the judging eyes of the wait staff, simply racking up a bill full of wine and not pizza. 

Maybe she should just order the damn pizza. 

Maybe she should just leave. 

She meets the eye of the waitress, gesturing for her to come back to the table, figuring that by the time the small brunette girl gets around the bar and back to her, she would make up her mind about whether she wants her food or her bill. 

And then, not expecting anything to come of it, she turns her attention towards the door. If Liam is going to show up at all, this is his last chance, right? Unable to stop it, she feels her heart pounding in her chest as the glass interior door is pulled open, and finds herself holding her breath. 

But it’s not Liam. 

It’s  _ Killian.  _ Who meets her eyes immediately and smiles brightly at her across the room, as if he knew exactly where to find her. 

She can almost feel the sigh of relief that the entire waitstaff lets out as they watch him approach her table, completely unaware of the fact that he is not the person she is waiting for. 

That doesn’t matter to her, though. Because he’s here. Smiling at her, pointing to the chair across the table from her. “Are you saving this seat for someone, love?” he asks, a twinkle in his bright eyes that tells her he knows exactly what has happened to her in the last hour. 

She is completely unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face at his question, though.  _ God _ , why does she keep smiling? She really needs to pull herself together. 

“Nope,” she says. “It’s all yours.” For a moment, a thought crosses her mind:  _ what would Liam think?  _ What if he surprises everyone by actually showing up, only to find his brother on the date he was supposed to be on? 

And then she realizes that she doesn’t care. She likes spending time with Killian, likes talking to him, likes the fact that he seems to actually want to be around her. Besides, there’s nothing to hide about their relationship. They’re not doing anything wrong. Liam  _ stood her up _ , for Christ’s sake. If he wanted to be here, he would. 

The waitress finally gets to their table, offering Killian a bigger smile than any that she received. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

Killian is completely oblivious to the waitress’ smile, instead staring across the table at her. “I’ll just take a seltzer with a lime, please, but if you’re ready to order, love, please, go ahead.” 

Emma doesn’t think she’s ever heard a more wonderful statement, timed perfectly just as the ambience of the restaurant covers the growling of her stomach. 

So she orders her pizza, a big enough size to share with Killian, thankful that he’s there. 

On the table beside her elbow, her phone buzzes. When she looks down to see that it’s a text from Liam —  _ Still not done, and probably won’t be for a bit still. Sorry. —  _ she almost laughs out loud. Almost. 

But she apparently fails to keep her response off her features, because when she meets Killian’s eyes across the table, he’s waiting for her to say something, asking her what’s wrong with just his eyebrows. 

_ How does she know that?  _

She shakes her head, dropping her eyes to the table. “It’s — it’s nothing,” she says, running her finger through the condensation her water glass has left on the table. 

“Are you sure, love? You know you can tell me.” 

At this, her eyes jump to find his again, wide with surprise. 

“What?” he asks, but she is already trying to put the words together in her head. 

“That seems pretty straightforward for someone I’ve really only spoken to a handful of times.” 

A flash of worry seems to cross his face, but it’s gone as soon as she notices it. He rests his forearms on the table, leaning slightly towards her. “Aye, maybe, but you know I’m right. We just seem to understand each other, Swan.” 

He’s right; there’s no sense in denying that, even with the very few times they’ve actually spoken. There’s something between them, some sort of unspoken understanding, a trust of sorts that she doesn’t usually give out easily, but there is something about the younger Jones brother that makes her feel at ease, comfortable, something in his eyes that makes her know that he’s not lying to her. Something that makes her feel  _ cared about _ , she may even dare to say. (Certainly not out loud, but still.)

Even with all that, though, how weird would it be to tell your boyfriend’s brother that you planned to break up with him but he blew you off for work? (Again.) That you’ve been wanting to break up with him for a month, but he hasn’t given you the chance? 

She can’t bear the weight of the patience swimming in his blue eyes any longer, though. She has to come up with something. 

“Is it weird for me to complain about your brother?” she asks, trying to smile through the awkwardness. 

The smile Killian returns, however, is anything but awkward. "All I ever want to do is complain about him, so I'll gladly listen to it from any other mouth just as easily." 

He's opened the gates for her; so she dives in. "Well, you know, we've both just been so busy with work and everything. We've barely gotten the chance to see each other in the past few weeks. Do you know that the last time we ate a meal together was when we went on that double date? And now he's moments away from getting this promotion, and then I'm going to see him even less because he'll move to a different floor." The words are coming easily now, with Emma trying to ignore just how interested the look on Killian's face seems. She hasn't had someone that really wanted to hear all her complaining, especially about work, for years — but here's Killian, watching her across the table, nodding along with her words at the right moments and completely ignoring the waitress when she brings him his drink. She's on a roll, which is how she doesn't see the next words coming until they're already out of her mouth: “Which is why I asked him to meet me for dinner tonight so I could break up with him.” 

At this — and to no surprise to her — he leans back in his chair, his mouth falling open. He doesn't know how to react, and she certainly doesn't blame him, because she didn't even mean to tell him that. 

A beat of silence passes between them, Emma beating herself up for letting that secret slip and Killian trying to put his thoughts in the right order. 

But Killian speaks first. "You know, love, Liam told me that you would probably be here waiting for him because he got held up at work." 

"Bullshit," she says, once again completely unaware of the words until they pass between her lips. 

"Pardon?" 

She feels her cheeks begin to heat — how is this the moment it happens? More appropriately, how hasn't it already happened? — but she pushes through it. "He didn't get  _ 'held up at work' _ ," she says, air quotes obvious even without her added hand gestures. "He's on a routine stakeout with my brother — one that David told me himself was going to be the easiest of his career, because they already had all the information they needed, just wanted to confirm it to bring the guy down. He's not needed. It wasn't even his case. He just took it to —" she sighs, resting her head in her hands. "I don't know. To kiss up even more to David. To avoid me and the inevitable break up that he has to know is coming." 

At this, Killian just nods. He doesn't even try to argue, because he knows it's true. 

"Wait," Emma says before Killian gets the chance to respond. "Does that mean Liam sent you? To cover for him, to make himself feel less shitty for bailing?" 

The bark of a laugh Killian lets out startles Emma, the last response she expected. 

“No, love, I came fully on my own volition.” 

Not only does she know that he's telling the truth, but with this statement, she also knows that she's in deep, deep trouble. 

Because she  _ likes  _ Killian Jones. 

God, how could he be such an idiot? He told himself he wouldn’t let it get this far, he wouldn’t get himself in so deep that he can’t pull himself back out. 

Why did he have to go and have feelings for her? For the girl that is  _ still  _ his brother’s girlfriend, even if both of them want to end it. This is not acceptable. It’s bad form. It’s just plain wrong. 

But —  _ gods above _ , he can’t get her out of his mind. All he wants to do is spend time with her, get to know her better, learn everything he possibly can about Emma Swan. 

Because he  _ likes  _ her. 

Sure, he’s only known her for a short time, but has felt drawn to her since the first time he saw her, even if that was on their double date.

If Liam felt the same way, then he would at least answer her when she calls him, right? He wouldn’t ignore her for two weeks, skip out on her dates, fail to respond to any of her text messages, right? 

He knows he certainly wouldn’t treat a woman as wonderful as Emma the way Liam has been, dating or not. But  _ damn  _ does he want to date her.

What is Liam going to think when —  _ if _ — he starts dating his ex? Some people just aren’t meant to be together, and just because Emma and Liam aren’t doesn’t mean that he and Emma can’t be. Liam can certainly find happiness with someone else.  _ There’s plenty of fish in the sea,  _ or something like that. Besides, Liam doesn’t want to be with Emma anymore anyway, so that has to mean something, right? 

He stops in front of the door to their brownstone, his keys already pulled from his jacket pocket, not quite ready to incur the questions and the daggers of Liam’s bright blue eyes that could be sitting on the other side of that door even as he slides his key into the lock. 

What if he is sitting on the other side of the door, casually watching something on the television with a beer in his hand? What if he really did spend the whole time he was at the restaurant with Emma here, ignoring her, lying to both of them about where he was? 

The thought of it makes his blood boil, and he thinks about sitting on the stoop instead, taking a few minutes to get his thoughts in order. But he decides against it, unlocking the door and stepping into the entryway, the volume on the TV just loud enough to hear it from down the hall. He feels another rush of anger towards his brother — for Emma’s sake, of course — and is almost ready to shoot down the hall and give Liam a piece of his mind when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. 

When he pulls it out, he sees her name, and the angry surge of blood rushing through him turns to what he can only describe as butterflies, as schoolboy giddiness that he hasn’t felt in far too long. It’s only through Facebook messenger, since they haven’t yet exchanged numbers, but it’s still  _ her _ . He accepts the message, immediately sending her a friend request before focusing on the words she sent him just moments before. 

**_I can’t thank you enough for tonight. I really needed someone to talk to, and I’m glad it was you._ **

He types out a quick reply, one that he hopes brings a smile to her lips in the same way it brought one to his: **_It’s the least I could do to help make up for my asshole brother. I’m glad I could help._** (He contemplates adding a smiley face, but he’s not sure if they’re at _that_ stage of their relationship yet, so he decides against it.)

With his heart still pounding in his chest, he watches as the little typing bubbles appear and disappear a few times, and when her message of **_I would really like to do it again, if you would. Just because I plan on breaking your brother’s heart doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?_** comes through, he releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

When it’s followed by  🤣🤣, he is unable to hold back the bark of laughter that bubbles up his throat. 

But his outburst of laughter must be loud enough for Liam to hear over the TV, and he hears him call down the hall: “Where have you been, little brother? It’s late.”

**_I would love to do it again,_** he quickly types in response, not wanting to leave her message unanswered like the bastard in the next room. 

He’s usually not one to hide things from his brother, his  _ best friend _ , but as he toes off his shoes and makes his way down the hall —  _ “younger brother” _ mumbled under his breath — he asks himself what the  _ hell  _ he’s going to say.  _ “Oh, yes, I was just meeting your girlfriend on the date that she asked you to and you bailed on, the date that she made specifically to break up with you, you ignorant sod.” Great plan, Killian.  _

“Killy!” Liam exclaims, looking up from the TV when he walks into the living room. “You were out late!” He has two empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of him, and a third in his hand. 

Killian is fairly sure he’s never been more angry in his life. She deserves better than this, deserves someone who will care for her and show up to dates instead of avoiding her in hopes that it puts off the break up. 

_ Someone like me _ , he tries not to hear the voice in the back of his mind yell. 

He was going to plead ignorance. He was going to say that he went out for a bite to eat and ended up at the bar down the street. But instead of the words that he had planned in his mind, he hears something completely different fall from his mouth: 

“Why do you keep lying to Emma?” 

Liam’s movements seem to happen in slow motion. He raises his bottle to his lips, then lowers it without taking a sip. He sets it on the table. Slowly, he turns to face Killian. 

“Excuse me?” 

There’s no going back, so instead he charges forward. “Emma. You told her you were at work tonight, and obviously that’s not the case. You keep avoiding her, keep standing her up, and she’s too good for you to treat her like that.” 

“What right do you have to tell me how to treat my girlfriend?” 

_ “Girlfriend _ ?” Killian repeats, throwing his hands in the air. “What kind of boyfriend are you, if you ignore her for, like, a month? All you’re doing in leading her on and hurting her.” 

“How do you even know any of this?” 

Killian takes a breath. If he does this, then there really is no going back. 

Apparently, he doesn’t care. 

“Because that’s where I was tonight. On the date where  _ you _ stood her up and I swooped in to cover for you, only to learn that this is how you’ve been treating her for the last few weeks!” 

_ No turning back.  _

Liam rises from the couch, anger written across his face. 

Before he can say anything, Killian asks, “If you don’t want to be with her, why don’t you just break up with her?” 

This certainly doesn’t make Liam any less angry, though there is still a couch between them. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life? Don’t you have a girlfriend of your own that you can bother instead of me?” 

Killian actually scoffs. “God, you daft git, Elsa broke up with me  _ three weeks ago _ . If you’d just pull your head out of your ass and pay attention to the world around you for once, maybe you could keep up with everything that’s going on.” Liam blinks at him, obviously taken aback by his words, but somehow manages no response. So, of course, Killian continues, not having learned his lesson. “Emma is too nice of a person for you to keep ignoring, dodging her calls, leading her on. The least you could do is break up with her, then at least you can do something to make her happy for once.” 

He doesn’t even want to know how Liam is going to respond anymore; he’s simply too angry. Turning on his heel, he leaves Liam behind in the living room, probably still with his mouth agape, probably still with nothing to say, knowing that Killian is right. 

“Killian!” he hears finally once he is halfway up the steps, but he doesn’t even pause to hear what Liam has to say. None of it matters anyway. 

  
  


Sliding her key into the lock on her apartment door, her mind drifts from Killian for the first time since she left the restaurant. She’s been so busy thinking about him, about just how much she enjoys spending time with him — how much better he made her night just by being there with her — that she’s overlooked one crucial piece of information: the fact that he just got out of a relationship with her best friend. After letting herself in her apartment, she pulls her phone from her pocket once more, smiling down at the latest message from Killian:  **_I would love to do it again._ **

_ Focus _ ,  _ Emma.  _

Closing messenger, she instead opens her messages, quickly finding Elsa third from the top.  **_Can we grab breakfast tomorrow?_ ** She adds  **_I want to talk to you about something_ ** before quickly deleting it and only sending the first half of the message. 

How is she going to tell Elsa? Better yet,  _ what  _ is she going to tell Elsa?  _ I know you just broke up with him, and I haven’t broken up with his brother yet — though not for lack of trying —  _ **** _ but I’m totally falling for Killian and I just want to make sure you’re cool with that before I act on any of these absolutely insane thoughts that have taken over my mind. _

_ Sounds great, Emma.  _

Elsa’s message comes back faster than she expected it to, though it doesn’t calm any of her fears:  **_Sure! That cute little diner by the harbor?_ **

Emma responds in classic Emma fashion, with a single thumbs-up emoji. 

She feels exhausted and productive at the same time. The clock on the stove reads 10:30, but it feels much later than that, the exhaustion of the day weighing down her whole body. 

She wants to take a bubble bath. 

She wants a glass of wine. 

She wants to go for a run. 

She wants to go to  _ bed _ . 

Instead of all that, she settles on a plan: a shower, a glass of wine, and an episode of “Drain the Oceans” until she dozes off. 

But the dozing off doesn’t happen. One glass of wine turns to two, one episode turns to three, and before long, it’s one in the morning and she’s still sitting in bed, her hair in an unbrushed bun, donning sweatpants and thinking about her situation. 

How the  _ hell _ did she get into this mess? How did she fall for her boyfriend’s brother — a boyfriend that she’s wanted to break up with for as long as she’s known Killian now, but the relationship still stands. 

Instead of sleep, her mind begins to spiral in a direction she wasn’t expecting:, not about Elsa, but about Liam. What will  _ Liam  _ think if they start dating? She might not know all that much about Killian, but she knows just how much he relies on Liam’s judgement. If Liam doesn’t want her around anymore, would he choose her over his own brother? 

Obviously she would never ask him to do that. Never expect it from anyone — she knows better. 

In the middle of her fourth episode of “Drain the Oceans,” she does finally drift off to sleep, though she finds herself no more well-rested when she awakes the next morning. 

When she gets to the diner the next morning, Elsa is already smiling at her from a booth near the corner, a large cup of hot chocolate between her hands and another sitting on the opposite side of the table. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Elsa says as Emma slides into the vinyl-covered booth. “What kept you up all night?” 

She knows she looks exhausted. Obviously she knows that she barely got any sleep. But it certainly doesn’t help that it’s the first thing Elsa comments on. 

“Liam,” she says, not even thinking about the implications of the statement until Elsa’s eyes go wide. She shakes her head. “Killian,” she tries to correct, but that certainly doesn’t make it any better; either does, “Both of them, actually.” 

Elsa has absolutely no idea how to respond to any of this, mouth agape, eyes wide. 

“Emma Swan, what the  _ hell  _ is that supposed to mean?!” 

Emma takes a deep breath, swiping her finger through the top of the whipped cream and sticking it in her mouth before finally looking up at Elsa. “I asked Liam to meet me for dinner last night and he never showed, but Killian did. He and I spent all night talking, and I—” Pulling her bottom lip up between her teeth, she lowers her eyes to the table, not sure where to even go from here. 

Thankfully, Elsa just laughs. 

“You  _ like  _ him, don’t you?” 

The last thing Emma expects when she raises her eyes back to her best friend is the smile spread across Elsa’s face. 

She says nothing, feeling her face begin to heat with embarrassment. There's nothing she  _ can _ say, because Elsa is right. 

"There's nothing to feel bad about, Em. You're human. You have feelings." 

The quick sip of hot chocolate doesn't help her dry throat, and she only exacerbates it when she tries to speak. "You mean, you're not upset or anything?" 

Elsa laughs. Again. Emma questions whether she really woke up that morning, or if this is all still a dream, some mean trick her imagination is playing on her. 

And then she knocks the coaster with her mug trying to put it back, spilling still-hot hot chocolate on her hand, and she knows she's awake. 

"Why would I be upset? It's not like I still have feelings for him or anything. We tried dating and it didn't work, and that was the end of it." 

Still trying to steady her breath, Emma shakes her head. "There's not some, I don't know —  _ girl code _ that this goes against? He's your ex, you broke up with him, and that makes him…"

"What?" Elsa cuts in, eyes wide. "Off-limits? Emma, this isn't high school anymore. We're adults. Besides, I'm not even sure that you could classify him as an 'ex,' given we went on, like, three or four dates over a few weeks." 

Emma takes another shaky sip of her hot chocolate before fiddling with the spoon, using it to stir what's left of the whipped cream into the mug. "So what you're saying is… that I should go for it?" 

"I mean, you should probably break up with his brother first." 

Finally, Emma smiles. "True."

"But, yeah, I don't have an issue with it. If you think he'll make you happy, I want to be the last person to get in the way of that happening." 

"Thanks a lot, Els," Emma says, her voice soft, as Elsa reaches across the table to place her hand on top of Emma's. 

"Of course," she whispers, and they share one more smile before the waitress approaches the table. 

  
  


By Friday, she's had enough. Not only has he dodged her calls and given her incredibly vague responses to texts, but she has only seen him  _ twice  _ in the precinct since Monday — now she's  _ sure  _ that he's avoiding her. 

She tries to calm herself down through lunch, fighting the urge to complain to Killian about it just to find a way to get the anger out. Instead, she texts Elsa, but she knows that she's in the middle of a shift and doesn't have her phone. 

Just getting the words out makes her feel a little better. 

Somewhat. 

Until the elevator dings on her floor and she  _ watches _ as he notices she's there, his eyes go wide, and he turns away from it, making a bee-line for the door to the stairs. 

She doesn't get off on her floor, instead riding up two more to where she  _ knows  _ he is hiding from her. 

To David's office. 

She beats him to his door by  _ moments _ , only winning because the elevator is closer than the stairway, and she can tell by the look on his face that he knows he's in trouble. 

"What the  _ hell _ is your problem?" she asks, much quieter than she could have, but he still peers over his shoulder, eyes wide, to see if anyone overheard her. 

Instead of answering, he reaches past her and opens the door to David's office, leading her inside and shutting the door behind them. 

"Excuse me?" David calls from his desk, briefly raising his eyes from the file in front of him, but neither of them acknowledge him. 

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Emma asks, much louder than she was in the bullpen. 

"I — I'm not —  _ ignoring  _ you," he stutters, his eyes glued to the ground between them. 

"Bullshit. You haven't answered my calls for days. We haven't seen each other for  _ weeks _ . You've bailed on plans, on dinners, you've ignored my texts, and now you're even trying to hide from me at work.  _ Why?"  _

She watches, blood boiling, as he pulls his bottom lip up through his teeth, his arms crossed over his chest. The room is so silent that she can hear the wild beating of her heart. Slowly, he raises his eyes to hers. 

"I want to break up," he says finally, softly, as if it wasn't incredibly obvious. 

She scoffs. 

"That's all I've been trying to do for, like, weeks." 

His bright eyes go wide —  _ did he really not figure that out already?  _

"Really?" 

Emma raises her eyebrows, amazed at how oblivious Liam seems to be. It takes everything in her not to roll her eyes at him. 

"Yes,  _ really. _ " 

Liam nods. "Oh." 

In the moments of silence that follow, David finally speaks up from his desk again, startling them both into remembering that he's there in the first place. "Excuse me, but what the  _ hell _ is going on?" 

Emma physically starts at his voice; Liam just snaps his head in his direction. 

It's at this moment that they  _ both  _ remember they had decided not to tell David they were dating in the first place. 

Emma reddens slightly, but it's nothing compared to the embarrassment that paints its way across Liam's entire expression. 

"Because, if I'm understanding this correctly," David starts, his words coming slowly as he sits, unmoving, behind his desk. "You two just broke up. As in… you were dating in the first place? And you, what — decided I didn't need to know this?" 

Even the words that come to Emma's mind come in stutters. 

“I don’t — I can’t — “ Emma tries, but nothing works. Her eyes flash to Liam’s again, to the growing redness on his cheeks. “You can explain this all to him,” she breathes, the words coming out faster than she wanted them to, but there’s nothing she can do. Avoiding David’s eyes, she leaves his office behind, storming back through the bullpen and into the elevator, and it’s not until the metal doors have shut in front of her that she manages to let out her breath. 

  
  


Not for the first time that night, Killian's hand clenched around his glass of rum tightens. He knew it was going to be a long night after receiving Emma's message:  **_He finally let me break up with him but I, uh, may have done it in my brothers office. In front of him. So it’s just me and a big bottle of wine tonight._ **

Unsurprisingly, he received a similar message from his brother into their group chat just a few minutes later:  **_I was just broken up with in front of my boss. Drinks at the Rabbit Hole tonight?_ **

At Emma's message, he couldn't help but chuckle; Liam's just made him angry, though it took him a while to pinpoint the reason behind it. It wasn't until he was in his car on the way home that he figured it out. Liam is still playing the victim, and he  _ knew  _ that it was an act that wasn't going to end before the night was over. Emma, however, was dropping the weight from her shoulders, taking a breath of fresh air now that she is unburdened by her relationship. 

Which is something that he completely understands. Talking to her over the past few weeks has been just that to him: a breath of fresh air. 

He feels better about admitting his feelings now that she's officially no longer dating his brother, even though he's been admitting it to himself in the lonely hours of the night for long enough to know that what he feels for her is real. Not only does he like her, but he  _ cares  _ for her in more than just a  _ quick fling _ way. He likes talking to her, and has really enjoyed the little time he's been able to spend with her. 

"Christ, Liam, do you ever think about anyone but yourself?” 

He hears the words in his head but doesn’t realize that they pass through his lips until the three other sets of eyes at the table turn towards him. Liam’s are filled with anger, David’s with surprise, but Will’s are full of laughter, a laugh that Killian fears is about to burst through him and make everything a little worse. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Now, the roll of his eyes is what Killian doesn’t seem to be able to hold in. 

“We’ve been over this before, or don’t you remember? Maybe you really were too drunk the night I came home from the date you were supposed to be on with Emma, when she told me that she was trying to break up with you for a while. And that was weeks ago.” He was trying not to get outwardly angry, he really was. It just seems to… not be working too well. 

“How long has this all been going on?” David asks, his voice soft and his eyes turned down to the table, hand wrapped tightly around his half-empty pint glass. 

“About three months,” Liam mumbles. “But I haven’t been — it’s only been a few weeks since she’s been trying to —” 

“Hm,” is David’s only response.

Silence overtakes the table. Will still looks like he’s incredibly humored by all of it — which doesn’t surprise Killian in the least. 

Suddenly, David’s eyes flash up to Killian’s, narrowing slightly, but they don’t stay. “And how long have you known about all this?” 

“I met her for dinner about three weeks ago.” 

“And that’s when she told you that she —” 

“Was going to break up with Liam, yes.”

“Ah.” He takes another small sip of his beer. “And what about… since then?” 

At this, Liam finally lifts his eyes from the table. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Killian asks, trying not to think about all of the implications of David’s question. “All we’ve done is talk.” 

“But do you…” David starts, the question trailing off. 

Killian  _ really  _ doesn’t want to answer this question. 

“Why are you suddenly interrogating me? Liam’s the one that she just broke up with.” 

“Right, and their relationship is over. Yours is potentially just starting. I never got the chance to ask Liam about his intentions, since they so  _ politely  _ hid their relationship from me.” 

Liam leans back, suddenly much more relaxed than moments before. “I much prefer this, actually.” 

“Aye, I bet you do,” Killian snaps, rolling his eyes once more. 

Will  _ finally  _ lets out the laugh that’s been bubbling inside him since the beginning of the conversation. 

Fittingly, Killian’s phone buzzes on the table by his elbow. 

Will laughs  _ again _ , nudging him with his elbow. “That’s her, isn’t it, mate?” 

Even David cracks a smile at this. 

“How do you know that? It could be an email. It could be me kicking your ass at fantasy football again. It could be one of the blokes from work.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not, is it?” Liam asks, kicking him gently under the table. 

He feels his face starting to burn. “I’m not even checking.” 

“What, are you embarrassed?” Will jests, ever-so-helpfully. 

“You really do like her, don’t you?” David asks, his voice soft. He’s not making fun of him, not jesting — he honestly just wants to know. 

With his hand wrapped around his glass, he does all he can to keep his nervous ticks to himself, dead giveaways around some of his closest friends. 

So all he does is nod. He can practically  _ feel  _ Will’s smile, sees out of the corner of his eye as Liam finishes his drink. David doesn’t move. 

But he does speak: “And what are you going to do about it?” 

Slowly, he raises his eyes to meet Liam’s. It takes a moment for his brother to do the same, but his question goes without saying. He’s trying his best not to plead, not to beg, simply to  _ ask _ with the look on his face. 

Because, as much as he likes Emma, he has been searching for Liam’s approval his entire life. If Liam didn’t want him to go through with his feelings, then he wouldn’t. It might kill him, but he would do anything for his brother.  _ Anything,  _ even if it meant not being with Emma. 

At least, he thinks he could do that. 

But, thankfully, Liam doesn’t make him make that decision, softly smiling before nodding at him. 

Killian’s heart pounds loudly in his chest — louder than before, at least. He finishes the rum in his glass in one quick gulp, slides his jacket over his shoulders, and takes off into the night without another word to any of them, only a small smile. 

Vaguely, as he moves through the crowded bar towards the exit, he can swear that he hears Liam ask, “So, what do you know about Elsa? Is she seeing anyone?” 

  
  


The bar is only a few blocks from Emma’s apartment, but he’s standing in front of her call box when he realizes he has  _ no  _ idea what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, what to even say into her call box. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from pressing the little button with her initials next to it, feeling the buzz hum through his body. 

It takes her a moment to answer him; looking down at his watch, he realizes that it’s quarter after ten, and asks himself for the first time if  _ maybe  _ she’s asleep. 

“You’re an  _ idiot _ ,” he says out loud. “You absolute daft git.” 

“Excuse me?” He turns to peer over his shoulder before realizing that the voice he just heard is coming from the call box. 

“Emma!” 

It’s not a question, but she still responds with a wary, “Yes?” 

“Shit, sorry, I’m — I’m an absolute idiot, I didn’t realize how late it was and —” 

“Killian? Is that you?” 

He wants to slam his head against the wall. He’s an absolute  _ idiot.  _

“Fuck.” He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s — it’s me.” 

“Um, okay. Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?” 

“I want — I need to talk to you. Can you please just let me up?” 

The last thing he expects to hear in response is her giggle. “Of course I’ll let you up, the door’s been open for, like, a minute already.” 

At this, he  _ does  _ hit his head against the cold brick wall. “Thanks,” he mumbles, pleading with the universe to help him, to make him less of an idiot at least for the next few minutes. To give him the strength to pour his heart out to Emma Swan. 

_ Gods above.  _

It’s much too late now to back out, though he supposes he could just turn on his heel and forget any of this ever happened. 

That’s definitely not what he wants to do. 

Instead, he takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes before pushing through the entry door, then the inner door. He doesn’t want to take the elevator, but he knows that the two flights of steps will just make his heart pound harder and faster than it already is. He certainly doesn’t need that. When he presses the button, the doors open immediately, not even giving him a moment to catch his breath. The ride barely lasts a moment — he can swear that he didn’t even get through a whole breath before the doors open before him once more and he steps out into the empty hallway. 

As the doors shut behind him once more, he almost slams his head against a wall again. He shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house, allowed to associate with people. He’s a god damned idiot. 

Because he doesn’t know which apartment is hers. He knows that she lives in this building, because he’s walked her home before. He didn’t even think to look at the number next to her name on the call box. 

An absolute god damned  _ idiot.  _

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, deciding between the two options he now has. Which would be more embarrassing: texting Emma and asking her which apartment is hers, or texting  _ Liam _ , getting this far only to completely embarrass himself in front of one of them. 

His finger hovers over Emma’s name, already formulating the text in his head:  _ Hey, I just realized that I got all this way and have absolutely no fucking clue which apartment is yours. If you don’t want to talk to me anymore because I’m a complete idiot, I totally understand.  _

Head. Wall.  _ Bang, bang.  _

Before he types anything, however, he hears one of the doors down the hallway creak open, and when he turns towards it, he sees Emma’s bright eyes peeking out into the dim hallway. After a moment, she realizes it’s him and pokes her head out further, revealing the large smile spread across her features. 

"Hey," is all she says. It's all she has to say, opening the door the rest of the way until she's standing in the hallway in pajama pants and a "Boston PD" t-shirt that Killian imagines belonged to David quite a few years before. It's all she needs to say before he's moving down the hallway in her direction, stopping himself at the last moment from simply pulling her into his arms and finding her lips with his. Because he really should explain himself first. Instead, he stops just close enough to her that he can smell her shampoo, can see the still-wet end of her braid over her shoulder from an earlier shower, and he has to stick his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and touching it. "I realized that you've never actually been inside the building so you might not be sure which apartment is mine." 

He smiles, his hand finding the spot behind his ear that always gives him away — he was able to control it in front of his friends, but he's useless against Emma. "Yeah, I was just about to text you." 

"Now you don't have to." Her smile grows, and his heart feels like it does the same. Is this how he reacted to her before, with his heart pounding in his throat and his blood rushing in his ears? Barely able to hold himself together without making an ass out of himself? 

_ Okay, so that's not new.  _

He  _ knows  _ he was better than this the last time he saw her, but that was — almost a week ago, actually. Since then, they've talked every night, and Killian has shared things about himself, pieces of his past, that he never thought he would want to share with anyone. 

He wants to share it with her. He wants to share  _ everything  _ with her. 

"My hero," he says softly, the words falling into the silence that has settled between them. 

But it only lasts for a moment before Emma pushes herself off the doorframe and gestures into her apartment: "Please, come on in." 

"Thanks," he mumbles, squeezing past her into the apartment. It's just about everything he's pictured after getting to know her: minimal decor, neutral colors everywhere save the maroon accents in the kitchen and some teal throw pillows on the couch. There's a bit of clutter, but nothing too distracting — a pile of shoes by the door, mail spread out over the counter, spice containers and ingredients throughout the kitchen. It doesn't bother him, of course, but the Navy man in him always has to have a place for him. He's glad Emma's isn't the same way.

Judging by the containers of Chinese food and the half-full glass of wine on the coffee table, he's assuming that her night has gone exactly as she intended it to: sweet and sour chicken, Merlot, "Drain the Oceans." And here he comes to throw a wrench in it all. 

"Can I get you anything?" she asks, looking around the apartment as if searching for something to offer. 

"No, please, don't let me intrude on your night," he says before realizing that this is  _ exactly  _ what he's done. She must realize it, too, with the small smile that spreads across her face as her eyebrows raise just slightly. "Which episode are you watching?" he asks, completely changing the subject and turning both of their attentions towards the TV instead as he moves across the living room and onto the far end of the couch. 

She snaps her head towards the TV as if she's forgotten what she's watching, but then sits down next to him on the couch — not completely on the opposite end, closer to the middle, but not quite touching him. For a moment he thinks it  _ has  _ to mean something until he sees where she is in relation to the items on the coffee table and realizes that it has nothing to do with him, but is her regular spot on the sofa. 

His shoulders sink a little. 

"Oh, it's the one on the, uh, battleships," she says, taking her glass of wine in her hand. 

Of  _ course  _ it's his favorite episode. Why wouldn't it be? 

For a moment, they both watch in silence as the show comes back from commercial, but it doesn't last long before she turns on the sofa to look at him. "I thought you were out with your brother and Dave tonight?" 

He swallows. Hard. She can probably see it happening. He should have had another drink before he left the bar. He  _ shouldn't have come.  _

"I, uh, I was." 

"It's barely ten. Did everyone go home already?" 

"No. I left." 

Her eyebrows slide up her forehead at an almost comically slow pace when this is all he says. When he still stays silent, she gestures with her free hand for him to continue. "Why?" 

"To come here. To talk to you." Again, this is all he gives her. And again, she gestures for more.  _ Christ  _ he's so terrible at this. He can't stop fidgeting. He can't even look at her — all he wants to do is lean across the space between them and kiss her,  _ damn it.  _

" _ Why _ , Killian? Why are you here?"

_ Does she know? She  _ has  _ to know.  _

Sure, she has to  _ know _ , but does she feel the same way? 

This wariness is the only thing that keeps him where he's at, stops him from taking her into his arms. Because if she's not on the same page as he is, he's going to ruin everything. And he would much rather have Emma in his life even if she didn't want to be with him, than destroy their friendship and lose her. 

So he pushes all words about  _ feelings  _ and  _ emotions  _ back a few steps and instead finds completely different words falling from his lips as he finally meets her gaze: "I'm sorry my brother is such a total git." 

If he wasn't already second-guessing everything, he would swear that her face falls at his words, that her shoulders droop a little. "Oh." 

_ Oh? OH? What the hell is that even supposed to mean?  _

"What?" 

Shaking her head, she turns away from him, back towards the TV. "No. It's nothing." 

Killian may not be at the prime of his intelligence in the present moment, but he knows for sure that whatever just happened is not  _ nothing.  _

"Emma," he says softly, leaning closer towards her, but she shakes her head again, keeping her eyes on the TV. 

_ Just take the leap, you idiot.  _

"Emma, please," he whispers, slowly reaching his hand out towards her. After a moment, she begins to turn to him, his palm finding the curve of her cheek. At his touch, her eyes flutter shut, though only for a moment before they are turned up towards him again. 

He wants to  _ ask _ , wants to say something just to make sure he's not making a huge mistake, but the words aren't there. 

She, however, doesn't even give him the chance, fisting the collar of his shirt to pull him towards her until his lips meet hers. Everything about her is perfect, warm, welcoming: her lips, her warm cheek against his palm, the slide of her tongue against his when she grants her the access she almost begs for. The skin of her back against his hands when she climbs into his lap. 

"Tell me what you want, Emma, and I promise, it's all yours," he says, absolutely wrecked by her. By the way she kisses him. By the mere fact that she  _ wants  _ to kiss him. 

He's both surprised and slightly upset when she pulls further away from him, moving to sit beside him on the couch again (though much closer than before). She pulls his arm over her shoulder, focusing much harder on the ring on his pointer finger than she has to. 

"I just… I just want to be with you, Killian," she says after a moment, her voice barely a hint over a whisper. "I don't want to rush into this. I'm sorry if I—” 

"No, no, no," he stops her, using his free hand to point her chin towards him again and smiling when she finally meets his eyes. "Please, love, don't apologize. That's all I want, too." 

At this, she returns his smile. And that's all he needs. 

**Author's Note:**

> SURPRISE! I have no idea how to write summaries anyway, and then moreso when there's a twist like "dating the wrong Jones brother"


End file.
